


Communication Failure

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Divorce, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron desperately wants a divorce from his wife, but there was something she just wasn't telling him all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication Failure

"Is she here yet?" Ron almost roared at his solicitor. "I'd like to get this over with."

The man Ron had managed to hire shook his head. "Sorry, Sir." He was by no means the best, nor had he been in the business that long, but he was all he could afford. He needed this divorce if it was the last thing he was going to do.

"Damn," Ron banged his fists down on the table in front of him, the water in the glasses spilling over, making beautiful patterns on the tabletop. "She's always doing this."

The solicitor nodded, as if he knew, as if he understood exactly what Ron was going through. He didn't. He didn't have a clue. Ron doubted his wife was anywhere near how Pansy was to him; cruel, harsh, unkind and uncaring. A shadow of the woman he'd first fallen in love with, as ironic as that seemed. Somehow she'd been unable to resist him, and it'd been her doing all the chasing, promising she was a nice person in private. And she was, for years. Until the sex stopped and she started getting moody, refusing to have children as she'd said she would. It was all too much, and finally, Ron had said enough was enough. If she couldn't change her attitude he'd divorce her, and when she laughed in his face, he contacted Mr Gelwert, his current solicitor.

They had already been there twenty minutes, in the dank, dark offices Mr Gelwert's firm provided for consultations and meetings. It was chilly, despite it being early Autumn, and Ron wanted nothing more than to have this done and over with. Today they were deciding the finances, and who got what, but if she wasn't going to show, it would take even longer. He dreaded going home that night. Even though they hardly saw each other anymore, and slept in separate beds, the fact that she still wouldn't vacate his home angered him. Until everything was final, she had a right to be there, or so Mr Gelwert said anyway.

"I'm sorry, Mr Weasley. If Mrs Weasley doesn't show within the next five minutes, I'm afraid we're going to have to reschedule. I do have other clients."

Ron stared at him, the frostiness as evident in his eyes as it was in his voice. "I'm sure." They waited in silence, but there was nothing. Not even the click of heels on the wooden floor outside to give him hope. Merlin how he had grown to hate his wife. She made him feel everything ten times stronger than he would have had it been anyone else, which meant his anger towards her was grave and dark whenever she pissed him off. This seemed to make her giddy, though, and she reveled in the fact she could easily toy with his emotions, making him swing from angry to happy within a matter of minutes.

"Time's up," Mr Gelwert said, looking at his watch again. "Perhaps next week?"

Ron sighed. "We've rearranged this meeting three times already. Is there really any point?"

Mr Gelwert shrugged. "Contact me to set up a time, then."

"Fine," Ron snapped, storming out of the office building and out onto the street in the darkening night sky. He wasn't going to Apparate, he decided. He'd walk. It was quite a distance, but if it meant he would be out longer then that was okay by him. It meant less time to spend with his soon to be ex-wife, if she'd let him divorce her. She was doing a pretty good job of keeping them married, that was all he could say, and he couldn't understand why since she seemed to hate him so much.

The happy couples he passed on the street annoyed him, making him remember the times when he and Pansy used to sneak around Hogwarts, trying to find a quiet classroom to make out in. When they'd finally come out to all their friends, nobody was happy for them, but _they_ were happy, and that was all that mattered. They had walked the corridors and then streets hand in hand, without a care in the world.

"It'll be your biggest mistake," Harry had said to him the night before the wedding. Of course he and Hermione had attended, Ron was their best friend after all, but they weren't glad about it. Particularly not Hermione who had been shunned out of being a bridesmaid. At the time, Ron had laughed at them, but now he was embarrassed. So embarrassed he hadn't actually been able to tell his friends that the six year long marriage just hadn't worked out, exactly as they'd predicted. It was too much. They'd find out in due course, but not by his mouth. He didn't have the balls to admit they were right.

Ron walked and walked and walked, past the old antique shops Pansy loved spending hours in, past the pubs he had to literally drag himself away from so he didn't turn into an alcoholic, and past the burlesque club Pansy had started working in last year. It wasn't as if they needed the money, and Ron hated her doing it, but she said she loved it. She loved watching men ogle her, and this had been the source of many arguments. The fact that she didn't care about his feelings angered and upset him the most, and it made him sick to his stomach to think about all the men staring at his wife's body as she danced around on stage.

"Join a dancing group," Ron had suggested once, anything out of desperation to get her to stop selling herself short.

Pansy scoffed. "It's not sexy enough, darling. Burlesque is just so me, don't you see it?"

"No," Ron had responded sharply, watching as she put on bright red lipstick to contrast with her bobbed black hair. She loved looking like a 1920s filmstar, and Ron had to say it suited her, but her outfit...No. He hadn't been able to see the outfits she wore after the first time. The more he didn't know, the better, he thought, since she was going to do it whatever he said. He wouldn't forbid her from doing it, he wasn't that type of guy, but he wanted to. She didn't care about his feelings, clearly, why should he care about hers? But he did, and he hated himself for it, feeling like a doormat.

"If you like being sexy, why do you never want to have sex?" Ron had asked, hands in his pockets and eyes avoiding her getting dressed. She'd done nothing but shrug, as though she didn't even have the answer to his question. He'd taken to masturbating furiously every chance he got, and damn that bitch; it was always over her. As much as his hatred for her was growing, it didn't stop the fact that she was still as sexy a minx as she was when they'd first got together, which made the no-sex thing even worse. If he'd spoken to one of his mates, Seamus or Dean, he knew they'd suggest he visit a prostitute, or flat out seek elsewhere, but he didn't. He didn't speak to them and he didn't go elsewhere. He couldn't do that to her, he just couldn't.

So there he was, every lunch break, hidden in the toilets and masturbating like his life depended on it.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled to an old couple after bumping into them, lost in his thoughts. He looked up to see where he was, to find he was right outside their home. It was a lovely townhouse, grand stairs leading up to the door with a lion and a snake emblem on the doorknocker. He pushed his key into the door, turning it and hoping she'd left for work. He knew she didn't start until eight or nine, and it was only six or seven now, so there was no such luck. This was confirmed when he heard her shrill voice coming from the living room.

"Darling! Why don't you come join me?"

Ron shut the door behind him, louder than necessary, and followed her voice. He was angry, pissed at her, for not showing up to their scheduled meeting. "Why didn't you show?" he demanded an explanation from her, staring at her sprawled out form, already dressed in her burlesque outfit. She must have done it on purpose, to taunt and tease him, to hurt him.

Pansy shrugged. "I didn't feel like it. You want this divorce, not me. You do it."

Ron banged his fist against the doorjamb. "I _can't_ do it without you, Pansy."

"Shame." She picked up the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_ and started casually flicking through it. "Do you think I should buy this?" she pointed to a bright red dress that barely covered the model's legs.

"I don't care, Pansy, I don't care! What I do care about is divorcing you. Do you realise how much it's costing in fees every week I hire that man?"

"So don't," Pansy laughed, as though it was all a game.

Ron pinched his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down as anger rose up inside him. "I want a divorce, Pansy. Why are you making this so difficult?"

It was a few moments before she spoke; though she discarded the magazine aside like she'd never even cared about it in the first place. Her eyes dotted around the room, and for a second, Ron thought he saw a tear in one of them. "Because I don't want a divorce."

"_Why_?" Ron stressed. "You hate me."

"No." Pansy shook her head. "No, I don't. I love you."

"Ha!" Ron laughed. "That's a good one. Now, seriously."

Pansy straightened up, staring up at him with wide eyes, wearing a look he hadn't seen in over four years. "It's true. I love you."

"If you loved me," he folded his arms tightly, "you wouldn't put me through so much hell."

"Hell?" she looked genuinely surprised at this comment.

Ron nodded. "Yes, hell. You working in that burlesque club, refusing to have my children, refusing to have sex --"

"Oh, _those_ things," she said, recognising what he was talking about. "All you had to do to get those was to make me, Ron."

"Er, what?" Ron said, completely baffled by her words, his eyes screwed up in confusion.

Pansy stood and started to undo his jacket. "If you wanted me to stop working in the burlesque club, all you had to do was forbid it. If you wanted me to have your children, all you had to do was demand it. And if you wanted to have sex with me, all you had to do was take it."

Ron tightened his lips and backed away from her wandering hands. "Let me get this straight. The reason our marriage went down the drain was because you wanted me to be a bastard?"

"Pretty much," Pansy nodded, giggling.

"Then why didn't you marry Malfoy?"

"It was you I fell in love with, you arse," she pulled him towards her again, planting her lips on his. All the memories of their earlier relationship came flooding back to him; her smiles and her sneaky little kisses in the dark. He stepped backwards, but took one look at her face and plunged straight in again, kissing her more passionately than he had done in years, like they were teenagers again. "So will you stop trying to divorce me now?" she asked when the kiss ended, after what seemed like several minutes.

Ron didn't say anything, but picked up the muggle mobile Harry had bought him two years ago and rang his solicitor. "Mr Gelwet, I'm afraid I no longer need your services. Thank you."

Pansy giggled, toying with the stubble on his face that he'd let grow there. He grabbed her hands and roughly pulled them downwards.

"If you ever, _ever_, manipulate me like that again, Pansy, I'll divorce you so fast you won't know what's hit you." She didn't do anything but smile at him, probably just as glad as he was that they were back to their old selves. "Now, get the hell up those stairs and strip naked."

He had always tried to be a nice guy, to treat her well. It was strange to think that _this_ was what Pansy was into. That she wanted him to force himself on her. But Merlin, he did love Pansy, had always loved her. And if it would save their marriage he would certainly try it.

Pansy ran towards the staircase, wiggling her bottom, teasing him. "Whatever you say, _Sir_."

Wiping his brow, Ron made his way up after her, thinking up all the possible demands he could conceive.


End file.
